Under Winter Moon
by skeleton.gold
Summary: "On my first day of school, I wore my best pair of shoes. On my first day of school, I fell in love." RLSB
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer_:_ The world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me._

_Warning: __This story will contain slash. If you're uncomfortable with male/male relationships, please don't read it!_

_A/N: Reviews are loved!  
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* * *

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UNDER WINTER MOON

Prologue

_In which Remus wears his best pair of _

_shoes, and first impressions count._

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* * *

_

On my first day of school, I wore my best pair of shoes. On my first day of school, I fell in love.

It only took a moment. He spoke, I turned, he smiled, I blinked, he held out his hand, I took it, he shook it, and I fell in love. Just like that. It only took a moment.

It's taken me nearly six years to realise it.

It wasn't romantic love, the sort of love that's swollen like fruit and achingly tempting. It wasn't lip biting, nervous delight love, or flushed skin and shivers when his knee knocked mine beneath the Gryffindor table. At that age, I had no concept of what it meant to long for someone.

It was an innocent love, like the calm, constant affection that I felt for my family. Something about Sirius was of comfort to me and I loved him immediately and completely. I would come to love all my closest friends, of course, but Sirius - Sirius only took a moment.

I struggle to remember when and how that love matured into a different sort altogether. It was slow, awkward, painful. First he was Sirius, my wonderful friend, always gadding about. And then, bit by awful bit, my heart got into a muddle. Now, he is Sirius, the ache in my chest.

* * *

On my first day of school, I woke to an iron-grey sky.

I shivered something terrible as I clambered out of the shower, in our little bathroom, and wiped the steam from the mirror. I wondered if Hogwarts would be cold. My mother said all castles were cold.

I ran my comb under the leaky tap and scraped my hair flat across my skull, in a neat side parting. The mirror laughed at me. I threw my comb in the sink, ruffled my hair, and went back to my bedroom, frowning.

I watched the swollen rain clouds from my window as I dressed. I wore my favourite knitted sweater and a pair of brown corduroy trousers that morning.

My mother was crying when I went downstairs for breakfast.

"Why are you crying?" I said.

"I burnt the toast," she said.

My mother is a terrible liar. Privately, I knew that she was worried about me, frightened of people finding out my secret. She didn't want me to go to Hogwarts, not really.

I shrugged. "I like burnt toast," I said.

* * *

My best shoes were a pair of tan leather oxfords, laces stiff and not a scuff mark in sight. My mother insisted I wear them, on my first day of school.

"First impressions matter," she said. "And _nothing_ gives a better first impression than a good pair of shoes."

That sounded pretty stupid to me.

"That sounds pretty stupid," I said.

My mother glared, and passed me the shoe polish.

* * *

At nine o'clock, on the morning of the first of September, I laced up my tan leather oxfords and followed my mother out of the house.

My father locked the front door and loaded my trunk into the boot of our car, an old Mini Cooper.

I liked that car. It was small, like me, and it had rusty doors and peeling red paintwork. I suppose that sounds a little like me too, being rather shabby in my appearance. My father left the handbrake off one day, whilst we were holidaying in Dover, and that car rolled straight down a hill, off a cliff, and into the sea. I'm hoping the similarities end there.

My mother let me sit in the front passenger seat that morning, which pleased me immensely, and I waved goodbye to our little house on the hill as our car sped away down the lane.

As we neared London, I pressed my nose to the window and looked up at the sky outside. It had grown darker.

"Ready for Hogwarts, Remus?" my father asked me.

I nodded, but my stomach disagreed. I felt horribly sick. Who would want to be friends with _me_, a part time wolf? No one, that's who.

My father seemed to read my mind.

"You'll be fine," he said. "You'll make plenty of friends before you even _get_ to Hogwarts."

* * *

I did not make plenty of friends.

I marvelled at the Hogwarts Express. It was a brilliant red, like my mother's favourite lipstick, and it gleamed through the thick white smoke that filled the platform. I'd never owned anything that gleamed, but that train made me wish I did.

By the time I'd stopped staring and actually got on board, the train was packed.

I hauled my trunk the length of twelve compartments before I found a free seat. Fortunately, there were five other first years in the carriage, which made me feel considerably more at ease. Unfortunately, all five of them were girls.

I didn't know much about girls, and I knew even less about how to talk to them.

"Hello," I said, hoping I didn't sound as nervous as I felt.

The compartment fell silent and five heads turned to look at me. After a long and rather humiliating pause, I dragged my trunk over to the window and quickly sat down. The girls went back to talking. Outside, it began to rain.

* * *

I stood in line for the sorting ceremony behind a girl with long red hair. I was cold and wet, and I wanted to go home.

I'd learnt two things during the train journey. Firstly, girls were about as much fun as a full moon. And, secondly, upon changing into my uniform, I learnt that my tatty black robes, bought second hand and patched upon the elbows, were so long that they completely concealed my shoes.

So much for first impressions.

As I wallowed in self-pity, another student was called to the stage to be sorted. The red haired girl in front of me sneezed, and the line shuffled forwards. Behind me, someone stepped on my heel.

I turned around, hoping they might apologise. I was wearing my best shoes after all, whether you could see them or not.

The boy behind me was tall and rather gaunt of face. He had a large, hooked nose and lank black hair. His eyes were so dark that they frightened me.

He did not apologise. Instead, he looked very pointedly at me and said, "Do you have a pet?"

I frowned. "Like an owl?" I asked, not entirely sure what the boy meant, or _why_ he was asking.

"No, I mean a proper pet, at home." The boy rolled his eyes, as though it were obvious.

"Oh, no." I shook my head. "Why?"

"You smell like a wet dog," the boy said.

I hated Hogwarts already.

* * *

"_Gryffindor_!"

I didn't know why the hat was so excited. I certainly wasn't.

I hurried from the stage, tripped on my way to the table, and finally sat down with cheeks as red as April rhubarb.

I wanted to go home, and there was nothing that anyone could say to convince me otherwise.

"I like your shoes."

Except, maybe, that. Those four little words lifted my spirits like a phoenix rising from the ashes, and I turned slowly on the bench to look at the boy sitting next to me.

He had bright grey eyes and a shock of brilliant black hair. A dimple winked in his left cheek as he smiled broadly at me and, then, he stuck out his hand.

"I'm Sirius!" he said.

I took his hand rather tentatively, and he shook it with such vigour that I thought it might drop off.

"I'm Remus," I replied. "Remus Lupin."

Sirius grinned at me, and, for a moment, my heart forgot to beat.


	2. Chapter One

UNDER WINTER MOON

* * *

Chapter One

_In which there are honking daffodils_

_and friendships are formed._

* * *

By the end of the year, I had a best friend. His name was Sirius Black.

Our friendship was like the sea of emerald evergreens that swept across the rolling landscape beyond Hogwarts. It flourished with each passing season and never once did it falter or fade.

When I recall those blissful days I often forget the times I spent alone in that shack. That year, I think even the wolf was happy.

Yes, our first year was an easy year, and I had found my first best friend.

Or so I thought.

* * *

Like a fern frond unfurling, Autumn woke lazily. From high in the Gryffindor tower, as the first days of our first year passed, I watched the Forbidden Forest blush red, then rust, then gold. By late October, that canopy blazed with colour. Autumn always took my breath away.

Late one evening, I was perched upon my usual seat at the little windowed alcove in the boys' dormitory. Sirius was lounging on his bed. I could feel him watching me.

'If you don't stop staring out that window, I'll get James to push you out,' he said.

I grinned wolfishly. 'Figures.'

'Does it?'

'Yes. Because _you _don't have the guts,' I goaded.

Sirius loved a challenge. He sprung from his bed and had me in a headlock before I even had time to protest that the window was still wide open, and I very much _didn't_ want to tumble out of it.

Eventually, flesh bruised and bellies sore with laughter, we collapsed onto the floorboards.

For a moment, we were quiet. I could only hear Sirius, panting for breath. Then, he turned his head to look at me.

'What do you watch?' he said.

'Watch?' I repeated.

'From the window,' Sirius said.

I looked away from him. How could I tell him I was watching the sky? Only two sorts of people would say that. Soppy girls, and werewolves. We were always watching, waiting for the next full moon.

'Remus?'

What could I say? I didn't want Sirius to think I was a sap _or_ a wolf.

As it turned out, I didn't have to say anything. James had burst into our dormitory, raving about the arrival of his new fanged-frisbee. Sirius was on his feet and out the door before I even had time to blink.

'I'm a wolf,' I whispered, to the space where Sirius had lain.

We spent the rest of autumn lobbing apples at Peeves and the Slytherins.

* * *

To begin with, there were three of us in our little group – James, Sirius, and I. As the days grew shorter and the first winter frost crept across the lawns of the castle, we filled our time with mischief and rich, raucous laughter.

In Charms, Sirius taught me how to turn hair a shade of sickly green. I was delighted. Verity Puckle was not. She burst into tears and demanded that we all receive detention, _immediately_.

When Filius Flitwick, our professor, calmly explained that the charm was perfectly reversible, Verity's cheeks had flushed as red as lobsters.

James sniggered. 'You know, with that hair –' he said.

'And those cheeks,' Sirius continued.

'She looks a bit like a tomato!' James concluded.

I couldn't help but roar with laughter.

Verity Puckle began to cry again.

* * *

A few days later, Sirius and James secured an entire week's worth of detention. After five nights in the library, and one spent breaking into Flitwick's office, they had managed to charm the doors of the Great Hall to sing out nonsensical obscenities every time Lucius Malfoy walked through its cavernous entrance.

For a week we cackled into our breakfast, lunch, and dinner, as Malfoy glowered at those doors.

It saved the best till last, calling him a '_pompous ladyflower_' and '_fuddled-arsed Slytherin'_, before the teachers decided enough was enough.

It took just one flick of a wand to dismantle the charm that had 'stumped' them all week. Flitwick looked mildly disappointed when the doors eventually fell silent.

Apparently, the teachers thought Malfoy was a pompous ladyflower too.

* * *

James and Sirius were adamant that I should secure a week's worth of detention also, so that we needn't spend any time apart.

'It's counter-productive,' James insisted.

'Time apart is time wasted,' Sirius agreed.

'Think of all the pranks we could plan!' James finished.

I _was_ thinking. Thinking of my record, my grades, what my parents would say. When it came down to it, I always seemed to be the voice of reason amidst the combined chaos that was Sirius and James.

'You just can't bear the thought of me having fun whilst you two sit in detention,' I said.

'Fun?' James sniggered. 'With who?'

'Peter?' Sirius scoffed.

The two boys looked at each other, and began to laugh.

Peter Pettigrew was the fourth and final boy in our Gryffindor dormitory. He was quiet, and generally kept to himself. Sometimes, I wondered if he was lonely.

I never got round to asking him. There was something unsettling about the way he watched us with small, beady eyes. It made me too nervous to speak to him.

'Fine,' I sighed. 'What should I do?'

* * *

It was during our next Potions lesson when James dared me to 'spill' the entire first-year supply of frogspawn on Severus Snape's head.

'He won't even notice. He's already as slimy as a toad!'

Privately, I thought James was confusing pranks with bullying, but I said nothing.

I stared reluctantly at the mammoth jar that stood at the back of the store cupboard. It was as tall as a broom and as wide as Erica Meadow's mouth.

Truthfully, I wasn't _entirely_ sure just how wide a mouth could be, but I had overheard some seventh year boys discussing it back in October and, apparently, Erica Meadow's mouth could open _very_ wide indeed.

'Perfect opportunity to practice the old _Wingardium Leviosa_,' said James. 'Don't you think Sirius?'

Sirius had squeezed in alongside me. There was something that delighted me in the way his arm brushed against mine.

'Absolutely,' he agreed.

I sighed, and pulled my wand from the pocket of my robe. Feeling mildly guilty, I directed it towards the gigantic jar of frogspawn.

I knew my fate was already sealed.

* * *

As it turned out, it wasn't.

I had poured ten gallons of frogspawn over another student's head, misused an entire year's supply of a basic ingredient, and showered the dungeon floor with slivers of glass. Apparently, this was not cruel enough, wasteful enough, _or_ dangerous enough to secure a fortnight's punishment.

'Three nights detention,' said Slughorn, 'and you can clear this lot up.' He gestured vaguely towards the floor and wandered out of the classroom.

James stared at me, open-mouthed. 'I don't believe it!' he fumed.

'I tried,' I shrugged.

Secretly, I was delighted.

Sirius laughed at James' disbelief as we swept up broken glass and speckled slime.

As Christmas drew closer, we spent the last weeks of term racing brooms in the Gryffindor common room by the light of the fire, whilst hoarfrost sparkled on the lead paned windows.

James and Sirius went alone to detention.

* * *

The holidays and the following term passed much too quickly for my liking.

Spring blossomed early with my birthday. In late-March, the three of us became a four.

In many ways, we had Lucius Malfoy to thank for the new addition to our gang.

It was the last week of term and I was walking back, rather unsteadily, from the Whomping Willow. It was the fifth time since I had started at Hogwarts that I'd spent the night in the Shrieking Shack.

I was grateful to Dumbledore for that little dwelling. It kept my secret safe. More importantly, it kept my friends safe.

I don't like spring, or summer. The days are too long. The skies are still bright blue when the moon appears. I like winter, and the darkness, when everyone stays indoors. In summer, the children of our village play until late in the meadows and the park and the roads. They should be in bed. Instead, I can still hear their gentle laughter in the distance as I change.

That morning, as I made my way towards the castle, Lucius Malfoy appeared from one of the Herbology greenhouses. He was clutching a large bunch of honking daffodils.

His face darkened when he saw me.

I recognised that look. He'd been wearing it ever since James and Sirius had decided to prank him last term.

I sped up a little. There was nothing pretty about revenge.

My little legs, still shaky from my transformation, were no match for Lucius Malfoy's.

He caught me by the back of the neck, halfway towards the castle. I didn't mean to yelp quite so loudly when he lifted me off the ground by the scruff of my collar.

'Pathetic,' Malfoy sniggered.

I scowled, but I knew there was nothing mean-looking about a quivering eleven-year old.

He set me back down rather roughly then, and grabbed me by the front of my robes.

'Not so brave now, are you?' he said. 'No friends about, and no teachers.'

I didn't like where this was going.

Apparently, Malfoy did. He grinned terribly at me. I didn't like the way his lip curled up, or how he stuck his nose very close to mine.

'I'm going to teach you a lesson, _you stupid little boy_,' he hissed at me.

I almost wet myself when he reached for his wand.

I'm glad I didn't, because that's when Sirius appeared.

'Hey, Malfoy! Those flowers for your boyfriend?'

I watched Malfoy's mouth contort with anger before me, and then he pulled away.

I guess he hadn't noticed that he was still holding that large bunch of bold yellow daffodils. For a moment, Lucius Malfoy looked markedly embarrassed. Then, he threw those flowers on the floor, and turned to face Sirius.

It was only then, when I dared to peek around Malfoy, that I realised Sirius wasn't my hero at all.

It was Peter Pettigrew.

He looked as terrified as me, but he stood fast and held his wand outstretched towards Malfoy.

* * *

Malfoy hexed Peter black and blue, but it was Malfoy who ended up in the hospital wing.

Sirius and James had been right behind Peter. Together, we gave as good as we got. Any enemy of Malfoy was a friend of ours.

'Why were you outside?' Sirius asked me later, as we sat in the headmaster's office.

We were awaiting our fate.

'I – uh – I –'

– couldn't formulate an excuse, _apparently_. I couldn't seem to lie to Sirius.

'We were worried, stupid,' he went on. 'Why do you think we were out there? We were looking for you.'

It didn't matter that Sirius had called me stupid. He'd been worried about me – they all had. Was this how wonderful it felt? To have friends who cared.

'Why are you grinning, you daft newt?' Sirius said then.

'Am I? I didn't realise,' I said, and grinned harder.

* * *

The four of us received a fortnight's detention.

When Dumbledore informed us of our fate, James looked rather smug.

'But Sir, there's only a week left of term,' he said.

'Then you can all consider your holidays postponed,' Dumbledore replied. 'I suggest you write to your parents to inform them.'

I didn't say anything whilst my friends protested. I think I realised then how serious our actions had been. I'd never seen Dumbledore look anything but jovial. Now, he looked old beyond his years, and dreadfully disappointed.

That night, James, Sirius, Peter, and I sat in our dormitory concocting excuses. Not one of which was plausible.

'_Dear Mum, I've decided to stay on an extra week to catch up on homework,_' was Sirius' best attempt.

It was only mildly better than Peter's letter, which read: '_Hi Mum! Hi Dad! Looking forward to Easter, but I'm afraid you'll have to collect me a week later than expected. I've come down with a terrible case of _–'

'Detentionitus?' James had chimed in.

We all laughed.

And from then on, that was how we did things. Together.

* * *

Our break flew by, followed by another term. Summer brought sweltering heat. It hung stagnant in the castle's stairwells and turned the milk in the kitchens rancid. At breakfast, we swatted wasps from the jams and the pitchers of juice. Outside, the grass on the Quidditch pitch turned yellow and died.

As I packed my trunk for the last time that year, I realised that I didn't want to leave. It had been a glorious year. I had made the most brilliant group of friends. I even had a _best _friend – Sirius.

Or so I thought.

By the end of the year, Sirius Black had a best friend too. His name was James Potter.


End file.
